


Hark! The Herald Angels Sing

by TryingToScribble



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale being awesome, Carol Singing, Crowley Being Crowley, Fluff, christmas markets, holiday fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-03
Updated: 2020-12-03
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:08:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27858861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TryingToScribble/pseuds/TryingToScribble
Summary: Aziraphale drags Crowley to the Manchester Christmas Markets. Crowley says something stupid and Aziraphale does something brave.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 33





	Hark! The Herald Angels Sing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hoomhum](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hoomhum/gifts).



> On the 3rd day of Christmas I was listening to this exact version of  
> [Hark! The Herald Angels Sing](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QJsC0Xr7lq8)

Aziraphale and Crowley are walking slowly through the Christmas Markets in early December. Aziraphale had insisted on coming and Crowley made sure they weren’t there for the first or last weeks of the market. That being said, it was still too busy for his liking. Aziraphale wouldn’t even let him zap a few idiots with bad luck. No fun at all.

In deference, Aziraphale smiles, points, and wiggles his whole body at every new thing he sees about the square. Crowley growls and complains that they didn’t need to go to Manchester of all places to walk around a market doing nothing.

“They’re everywhere, for hell’s sake, Angel. Plenty back in London.”

But Aziraphale waves him off each time declaring that he hasn’t been to these markets in such a long time and it’s all changed so. “Honestly, dear, Manchester isn’t all bad no matter what you did to it. Look! Those lovely children are about to sing carols. How wonderful!”

Crowley spins to see what the angel is pointing to now. He scowls when he notices how young these children are and just knows in his bones that they will sound awful. He surely won’t last another minute in this land of false joviality and poor singing.

He looks around desperately for something to distract Aziraphale with. “Angel, look over there! What’s that Santa doing?” But it doesn’t work. Aziraphale flicks his wrist without looking to help the poor man pull the fake beard from his face where Crowley had momentarily made it real. Crowley sighs loudly. Spoilsport.

As Aziraphale pulls him closer to the gathering of children he notices that they each hold a small booklet. “Oh Satan, they’ve got more than one blasted song up their sleeves.” He mutters under his breath. Aziraphale will definitely insist that they stick around and show support for every song. Go- Sat- Damn it all.

“We could go and get some of the hot chocolate you pointed out before.” Crowley tries one last time to pull the angel’s attention away. He knows before he speaks that it won’t work. The angel has set his mind to something and Crowley will be by his side as usual despite how much it will pain him.

The children start off with a quick and over practiced rendition of Frosty the Snowman. However, despite how mechanical it sounds, Crowley has to admit that they sound pretty good. Not aloud, though. He couldn’t embarrass himself by saying so aloud. He simply huffs and shoves his hands deep into his pockets with a forced scowl. Aziraphale gives him a smile that tells Crowley he is fooling no angels here. He huffs again for good measure anyway.

Crowley refuses to join the applause as they round off the song but he watches secretly fondly when Aziraphale gives the loudest and brightest applause of all.

Then the children’s choir seems to draw their shoulders up and become serious as one whole unit. The first few notes resonate beautifully but the words catch the demon’s attention.

_“Hark! The herald angels sing_

_Glory to the newborn king.”_

“Ha!” Crowley barks a loud laugh. Aziraphale immediately flaps his hands in an effort to quieten him. “Angels don’t sing!” He heckels on, unconcerned. He should have been. He should have been very concerned as he suddenly has the angel’s full attention and not in any way that he wanted it.

Aziraphale turns on him with a frown and a raised eyebrow that cuts Crowley’s taunts and makes his insides twist. There is also a shining in his eyes that Crowley doesn’t know how to interpret but he knows he’s about to eat his words.

“What was that, dear?” Aziraphale asks pointedly politely and Crowley knows he has to answer even if he really doesn’t want to.

Crowley swallows and mutters a repeat that sounds more like a question. “Angels don’t sing?”

Aziraphale tips his head in consideration, for just a few beats of the blood pounding through Crowley’s ears. And when the angel smiles this time his stomach flips and he curses himself for ever speaking a word in his life.

“Do they not?”

Before Crowley can so much as register the remark, Aziraphale is snapping his fingers and situating himself among the choir. The demon gasps a long breath and then gulps against his suddenly dry mouth. He’s never heard an angel sing before. He honestly didn’t think they did anymore, not after the Fall, and not in any human way. And he especially never expected Aziraphale to be a singer. Aziraphale has never expressed his liking for any kind of music, really. He tolerates much of Crowley’s tastes but beyond his enthusiasm for human creativity, he never bothers with music. Or so Crowley had assumed.

Crowley doesn’t realise he’s made even more assumptions in these few seconds about how Aziraphale may sound or even how he’ll style the song. His assumptions run along the lines of Aziraphale following the slow and beautiful original melody to it’s somber yet _nice_ conclusion. The absolutely last thing he expects is for the chorus to jump straight into a gospel-like remix and for Aziraphale to launch into rhythmic clapping as the kids start to sway and hop as they switch it up.

And as much as the demon thought he would never admit it, Crowley thinks Aziraphale sounds amazing. He may even have to hold back a smile and force his head not to nod along.

The angel fits in perfectly with the choir and Crowley doesn’t know how he ever thought otherwise.

“That was… uh, good. It was good.” He admits as he grows red when the song is over and Aziraphale is walking back towards him.

“I know.” Is all Aziraphale says. The confidence he usually hides is making him shine now. He reaches out to take Crowley’s hand and thread their fingers together. Crowley just squeezes and allows the angel to pull him wherever he wishes to go. “Come along, dearest. I believe you mentioned hot chocolate.”

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays, Hooms!


End file.
